


Simple Pleasures

by debandalex



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-19
Updated: 2006-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11346633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debandalex/pseuds/debandalex
Summary: Alex flees his feelings for Skinner and discovers the complexity of the simple pleasures of life.  Originally meant as a setup piece for another story, but I think it works as a standalone.





	Simple Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Graphic sex of the rough, but willing variety.

  
Author's notes: Graphic sex of the rough, but willing variety.  


* * *

Simple Pleasures

## Simple Pleasures

### by Deborah

##### [Story Headers]

  


Alex adjusted the collar of his leather jacket a little closer to his face and jogged across the wet street. The Pacific Northwest was living up to its reputation and that was fine with him; it fit his mood perfectly. He made his way toward the bar he had spotted as a possible refuge away from the imminent downpour. It wasn't anything special as bars go, more in the blue-collar section of town. The afterwork crowd hadn't made it in; so, it was easy for him to make a quick scan of the room as he made his way to the bar. He didn't expect trouble, but habits were hard to break. 

The good-old-bad-old days were mostly a thing of his past, if Mulder and Skinner held up their end of the bargain and dealt with the information on all the data he had given them. The people that were going to be interested in revenge were going to be too busy covering their own asses and besides, he felt confident in his own ability to survive. But, his dealings with Mulder and Skinner, particularly Skinner, now that was an area of his recent past that he sure as hell didn't want to dwell on; it was one of the reasons he was where he was, which was basically at the end of the proverbial line. This train had come to the end of its track and he was staring into the vast, yawning face of what-to-do-with-the-rest-of-his-life. 

And, of course, he did what he always did best and completely ignored the personal side of his life, now that he actually had time to _have_ a personal life. Besides, he wasn't even sure that he wanted a personal life. 

He hitched himself onto a barstool at the far end of the bar, conveniently far enough away from the front door so that he could watch anyone come in and keep an eye on the room itself. He smoothed off the few drops of moisture from the arms and front of his jacket. 

Skinner had told him before he left that he wanted to have a relationship with someone special. It still amazed Alex that he and Skinner had found they had so much in common with each other, enough that they'd discovered they were spending time together that wasn't directly related to _work_ and then they'd discovered they had much more in common than they'd ever dreamed...except for the one thing they really didn't have in common. 

The bartender came up and Alex gave his order for a beer while his eyes scanned the room again, a few tables, some booths against the wall opposite the bar. Only a handful of patrons. A group of three men sitting at a table in jeans and flannel shirts and work boots, looked like construction workers. The guy in a booth almost directly across from him caught his eye and he paused a bit in his regard before his eyes swept past and returned to his beer that the bartender sat before him in a nice, tall glass. 

He took a sip of the cold brew and thought about the man in the booth, about how much he looked like Skinner... that type. That was one of the things he had discovered he liked...that type. His eyes slid back to the man again. He was looking down at his own beer and Alex thought there was definitely something about him that was worth checking out. 

"Can I get you another one?" 

Alex looked back at the bartender and noted in some surprise he had managed to drink most of his beer without even realizing it. He nodded and rested his forearms on the shiny, dark surface of the bar top as he watched the bartender pull the draft lever to fill up his glass again. The rain had been cold and the dark, gloomy day made it seem chilly even inside the warm and dry confines of the bar. The cold beer was just beginning to warm the center of him nicely. 

His type, he thought. Skinner had most definitely been his type...up until the moment he had gotten serious. The man had fucking ruined it then. It still made Alex mad to think how the fucking idiot had screwed up such a great and mutually satisfying thing they'd had going. Suffocating. The man had been so fucking suffocating. Skinner would not shut up about the plans for the future. Always the fucking plans. Everything had to be nailed down and cemented into place. Alex was more than familiar with plans. He had developed a few plans himself over the years, but he had learned to be fluid, to be flexible, to fucking survive, to not care too much. He liked it that way. He had always liked it that way. He planned to be liking it that way in the future. 

Skinner was always telling him how much he meant to him, how serious he was. Well, shit. Words counted for zip in Alex's world. Words were worth their weight in absolutely fucking shit. A man's deeds. That's what counted in Alex's world. And then Skinner had gone and spoiled everything, gotten too serious, wanted too much. Wanted more than Alex could give...wanted to give. Fluid, that's what you had to be in this world. Not some fucking monolithic, overly possessive, self-delusional, love sick, mid-life crises waiting to explode all over him. No. Thank. You. 

"What?" The bartender stood in front of him with a questioning look on his face. 

The fresh glass of beer was in place and Alex realized he must have been muttering to himself. Just fucking great. He shook his head and muttered, "nothing," as he raised the glass to his lips. The bartender shrugged and walked away and Alex's eyes made their way once again to the guy in the booth. Definite possibilities. This time the man in the booth looked up to catch Alex staring at him. Alex quickly let his eyes slide past the man as if he'd only been scanning the room and then returned to staring at the dark surface of the bar top between his arms. He raised the glass to his lips and felt both his racing heart and the man's silent regard. He heard the man slide across the bench seat of the booth and walk across the floor towards him. He kept his eyes locked straight ahead, down the length of the bar and thought, oh Jesus, you stupid fuck, you've done it now, as the man eased himself onto the bar stool next to his, facing the row of bottles behind the bar. 

He had a big presence, wide shoulders that filled out his suit, which fit him in a way only good money could buy, definitely folliclely challenged and remarkably out of place in this particular place, now that he was more in the open. Alex's eyes stayed front and center, ready for anything. He looked through the window onto the street and noted the rain was coming down hard. People were rushing by, dark figures hunched over, some with umbrellas, but most bareheaded. The small tv behind the bar was on the local news. There was a large map showing more rain forecast for the night and the coming weekend. 

The bartender hurried over with what looked like a glass of scotch when the suit-man sat down. Mr. Suit looked up and gave the bartender a small smile. The hand that wrapped around the fresh glass had a diamond ring sparkling blue fire on his pinky finger. "You're a good man, Joey." 

The bartender flipped his towel over his shoulder and smiled back, only his was wider and if he'd had a tail it would've been wagging. "Always, Mr. G., always." As he turned, the bartender's eyes swept over Alex and there was a considering look that hadn't been there before. Alex frowned with a considering look himself as he watched the bartender walk down to the other end of the bar and wipe the top of it vigorously. 

"Looks like we're in for a rainy weekend." The voice was mellow and deep and just loud enough to carry over the background noise. There was a hint of New Jersey to it. 

Alex turned and focused his attention on the man beside him, who wasn't looking at him, but taking a sip of his scotch. There was a freshly shaven look about him as if he went to a barber on a regular basis and got the full treatment with a straight razor. 

Alex smiled a bit and picked up his own glass and took a large drink. It settled nicely along with his heart rate, which didn't slow down, but rather changed pace from danger status to hunter and prey and in this case he wanted to be the one who got caught. He said, still watching the people as they rushed by outside, "There go the golf plans." 

"You golf?" Besides the questioning note, there was one of very slight incredulity in the man's voice. 

Alex's smile grew just a bit wider as he turned his head to face the man directly and noted how Mr. G.'s eyes were assessing him without actually staring at him. Sort of doing the scan without any eye movement before actually focusing in and meeting Alex's eyes. 

Mr. G.'s eyes were dark brown and Alex was relieved to see they didn't have any sort of soft look about them. Instead, there was a very definite hardness underneath all the surface gentility and he was familiar with that. This he could handle. "No," he answered, still looking at the man's face and watching as Mr. G.'s lips formed an answering smile to his. The man nodded, still grinning, and looked down at his hands as his fingers played with the glass. 

"You?" Alex asked as he brought his beer up to his lips again and this time he noted Mr. G.'s eyes following the movement of his throat as he swallowed. 

Mr. G.'s eyes rose to meet Alex's before he said, "Golf?" He shook his head. "No." He paused a moment and continued, "I'm afraid my work doesn't leave me much time for golfing." 

Alex nodded as if he understood completely. "Too bad," he said as he let his eyes take in Mr. G. in more appreciative detail. 

Mr. G.'s smile was showing teeth now, perfectly capped teeth. "They say there's other things in life to enjoy besides golfing." 

Alex smiled back, showing his own teeth. "I'm more of an indoor hobby man myself." 

Mr. G.'s eyes were glinting now. The hunter closing in on the prey. "Thought you might be. Never can be sure about that sort of thing...a man's simple pleasures. Are you a man of simple pleasures Mr...?" 

Alex put his hand out and said, "Alex. Pleased to meet you Mr. G. is it? And, yeah, you can't find many men more in search of simple pleasures than me." 

A smooth, warm, well-manicured hand clasped his. "Ghiarelli. My associates call me Mr. G., but between friends it's Mario." Alex's hand remained clasped in the warm grip, snugly captured and Alex was finding he was very happy to have it there. "Please use Mario, Alex. I think we're going to be friends don't you?" 

Alex covered Mario's hand with his other one and answered, "There's nothing better than sharing the simple pleasures of life, Mario, my friend." 

* * *

Alex toed off his last sock and stretched in an excess of pleasure at the feel of the over soft mattress. He stretched his hands above his head and then swept them down as if he were making a snow angel on top of the silky bed covering. Nice bed. Nice room. He was feeling no pain, just blissful numbness and a general impression that everything Mario said was unusually funny. That Mario was such a funny guy. He seemed to know the city pretty well. They'd hit all the interesting places and drank quite a lot and laughed. It felt good to laugh. Skinner just wanted to make plans. 

He could hear Mario talking now, not anything he could clearly make out, just low, male voices somewhere in the vicinity of the hotel door. He didn't bother to look. Even the low light in the room from the bedside table was too much. He rolled his head to the other side, the side with the window. The draperies were pulled back. The rain beat against the night-black window and he listened to that and Mario's voice and thought about how much he really sounded like Skinner when he was talking low like that. 

He shivered and missed his jacket. When had he taken it off? The air-conditioning was down too low. He reached up with both hands, under his T-shirt, where it had hitched up and exposed his belly a little. The flesh of his belly was nice and warm and felt so good on his cold hands. 

His gun. Missing. And the holster. 

He rolled over onto his side, facing the window and clutched at the edge of the bed, searching the carpeted floor. No gun there and no gun on the end table. He rolled onto his other side and repeated the same procedure. Spotted both gun and holster this time on the floor. He dragged it up to the bed with him and rested it on his belly, the weight of it nice and reassuring, as he lay on his back again with a deeply satisfied sigh. Bad gun to run off like that. He'd have to be more careful in the future. 

Mario closed the door and walked over to stand beside the bed, gazing down at him, smiling in a deeply satisfied way. Alex returned the smile and wiggled his toes where they dangled over the end of the bed. 

"I really don't think you're going to need that tonight, Alex." 

Alex looked down at his midsection and stroked the gun, then looked back up at Mario and simply grinned happily. 

Mario shook his head and chuckled as he sat on the bed next to Alex and reached out as if to take the gun. 

Alex shook his head and uttered a, "Nuh unh," as he shifted and scooted farther away until he rolled off the edge of the bed with a loud thud. Mario sighed and said, "Alex get back in bed. You can keep the gun if you like. C'mon." He paused a moment and said with a smile in his voice, "Time for those simple pleasures we talked about, Alex. Don't you think?" 

There was a shuffling sound on the floor between the bed and the wall, then Alex's hand appeared, clutching at the top of the bed, then his other hand, this time with the gun out of the holster. Alex's face appeared next, his hair rumpled and flushed, his eyes glittering in the lamplight and an absolutely evil little-boy grin on his face. 

Mario laughed out loud and motioned at him with a crook of his index finger, motioning him up and closer, then said, "C'mere boy, I've got plans for you." 

The look on Alex's face changed instantly into a dark and dangerous visage. "Don't fucking call me boy!" He struggled to his feet as Mario sat in stunned amazement at the swift turn of events. 

Alex braced his back against the wall and pushed with his legs till he had achieved a semi-erect posture even if he did have to lean against the wall for support. He left the gun hanging at his side, but the look on his face was still dark and threatening. 

Mario sat on the bed regarding Alex as he listed ever so slightly to the right. His voice was stern as he said, "Put the gun down now, Alex , and come to bed." 

Alex glowered at him, "You called me boy. I. Hate. That." 

Mario glowered back, but his voice remained reasonable, "I'm sorry about that, Alex. An unfortunate misunderstanding. These things happen from time to time. Don't you agree?" He nodded his head as if by doing so he could get Alex to imitate the action and thus the sentiment. 

Alex simply frowned till a crease appeared above his nose and he lifted the hand with the gun dangling in it to rub at the side of his head and mumbled, "I'll think about it." 

Mario sighed like a man who had reached the end of his rope. "Think all you like. I'm going to bed." He stood up and began to fulfill his promise by undressing. 

Alex watched, the gun dangling by his side once again as the man in front of him calmly took off his expensive jacket and hung it in the closet, then began to remove his tie and shirt. 

As the shirt slipped off the wide, muscular shoulders, Alex shifted upright a bit more and rested his head against the wall behind him. The gun completely forgotten as he watched in rapt fascination the quiet, methodical disrobing until Mario stood completely naked. 

By this time Alex had forgotten whatever had caused his previous concern and simply enjoyed the way his cock was trying to burrow its way out of his jeans. He moved his hand up with the dangling gun and rubbed it along his aching cock and groaned while his other hand moved under his T-shirt over his belly. He would have closed his eyes, but he didn't want to lose sight of Mario's naked body standing on the other side of the bed; so he just lowered them half-mast. His cock got too uncomfortably confined and he released it with a sigh of contentment and then shimmied and pushed till his jeans and underwear fell around his ankles. He brought his feet up and out of them and stood on them as he continued to watch Mario. 

Mario raised his arms over his head and stretched, his cock beginning to fill out. Alex's mouth began to fill with saliva. Mario gave him a lopsided grin and walked around the end of the bed and sat down on the edge, directly facing Alex and looked up at him with an expectant expression. He patted the top of his thigh with the palm of his hand and said, "Why don't you join me Alex. Simple pleasures, remember?" He smiled and Alex found himself smiling back as he remembered their earlier exchange. 

"Yeah," he said as he heaved himself off his wall support. "Yeah, okay, sure, why not. Simple pleasures." 

He let his knees bend and he thudded softly to the floor between Mario's widespread thighs. His goal was to wrap his arms around the trim waist in front of him and go to town, but when he raised his arms to do just that the gun appeared and he looked at it in an irritated way. It could be damn inconvenient at times. 

Another impediment to his achieving his goal was Mario's big hands on his shoulders keeping him from bending any closer. Was the man crazy? "What the fuck, Mario?" 

Mario simply released his grip on his shoulders, collected the gun from Alex's lax hold on it and stuffed it in the top drawer of the nearest end table. Mario then cupped Alex's face in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth. It was deep, fast, because Alex hadn't expected the kiss and his mouth opened without him thinking about it and by the time he did think about it he couldn't do anything about it. Mario's big, thick tongue was already working all inside his mouth, wet and wild and he loved it like this. He threw his arms around those wide shoulders and hung on until Mario got tired of that and they pulled back. Alex's lips felt swollen and slick and just a little numb. 

Alex grabbed Mario's shoulders, locked eyes with him and growled. Alex just had time to note the man's eyes start to widen in shock before Alex had him pushed flat on the bed, his chest pressed to Mario's and his lips sucking on Mario's strong neck. Mario growled in turn, only louder, and heaved them both back up. 

Alex tried to move down further between Mario's legs to get to the now very erect cock that was waiting for him, but once again Mario stopped him and this frustrated the hell out of Alex. He was about to demand what the hell was going on when Mario reached down and wrapped an arm around Alex's waist and tried to heave him up. Alex resisted. Mario wrapped his arms around Alex and heaved again. This time Alex came up off his knees and collapsed onto the bed with Mario. 

Alex sprawled on top of Mario's uncomfortably hard body and slipped off onto his side. "What the fuck?" Mario had the darkest, most intent look in his eyes and it gave Alex a deep belly flop of pleasure. 

Mario rolled onto his side facing Alex and quickly levered himself upright, flipping Alex onto his face and pressing him further into the bed with a heavy hand in the middle of his back. The man completely ignored Alex's muffled complaints as he began to resoundingly and firmly impact the beautiful ass by his side with the palm of his hand, repeatedly and loudly. 

Alex's complaints quickly turned to muffled curses and then to muffled, hoarse yells of outrage. His right hand was caught under his chest and the left couldn't reach anything other than the bed covering which he fisted and pulled with each smack of the heavy palm that sent his groin and aching cock pressing into the edge of the bed. His cock that had never felt so hard, so ready to fucking explode and the heat was building in his ass, stinging like a motherfucker and he found his body jerking in pleasure with each impact; his hips thrusting his cock into the bed coverings, trying to fuck the mattress itself. There was no way he was going to let Mario out of this room alive. God, Alex thought, he had never felt so hard in his fucking life and Mario just kept slapping that hot, wet palm against his ass and it was making him feel so good he felt like he was melting into the sheets. He began to hump the mattress frantically as Mario's palm increased its rhythm, too; the pressure kept building and Alex finally, finally got that hit from Mario's palm that pushed him further into the mattress and he opened his mouth and fucking howled his release into the sheets till he was hoarse. 

Alex turned his face to the side and sucked in great mouthfuls of air into a dry mouth and throat. Mario's hot palm rested heavy on his even hotter ass and then he felt his ass cheeks spread. The exposed flesh startlingly chilled by the room's air and Alex didn't care. He couldn't feel a bone in his body. But he did feel the very real pressure against his asshole. Mario's condom and lube-sheathed cock was even colder than the air of the room and sent goose bumps along his body along with the pleasure roll in his stomach of anticipation for what was to come. He groaned and pressed his forehead into the bed as Mario's hands gripped his hips, pulling him into place as Mario knelt behind him. 

The pressure increased against his asshole and then the head of the cock popped through. Alex sighed and pushed back, but the grip on his hips stopped him. Mario was in complete control and it left Alex feeling like he was melting into the mattress again. 

The cock pushed in and filled him, sending Alex into one long, continuous moan that became grunts as Mario's cock began to work in him. The sensation of being filled and fucked was brought home in an intensely satisfying way whenever Mario's groin thrust against his sensitive, burning ass. The man's pubic hairs scratching at the flesh, making Alex press his forehead even harder into the bed and he felt as if he could come again, but all he could do was let Mario work his body, establishing his rhythm, the hand that was pressing against Alex's back was growing wet and slipped, pushing and bunching his T-shirt against Alex's shoulders and then grasping the back of Alex's neck. 

All Alex could think about was the cock in his ass, Mario's control of his body and he let go. 

He let go. 

And it felt like he came again, but there was nothing left. 

There was nothing left of him. The man behind him had it all. Had it all. Had everything. 

Mario's rhythm grew frantic. Alex shuddered, knowing it was coming, it was going to end and he didn't want it to end. 

One final, deep thrust and Mario came. 

No sound other than a small grunt and then the heavy body collapsed on him and Alex couldn't breathe. He felt Mario's lips briefly against his throat and then the man slipped off him and struggled fully onto the bed then heaved and hauled at Alex until he, too, was lying more or less on the bed. 

The last thing Alex remembered was the silky feel of bed covering being thrown over him and then nothing. 

* * *

Alex raised the collar of his leather jacket and hunched his shoulders against the morning's soft rain and looked down at Mario's face gazing up at him from the limo's open window. Mario had dropped him off across the street from the bar where they had met the afternoon before. It felt like a lifetime ago to Alex. 

The man was grinning at him and Alex thrust his hands deeply into the pockets of his jacket and shifted his eyes elsewhere. 

"So, Alex. Any plans to continue your pursuit of the simple pleasures in life?" 

Alex shrugged and then brought up a hand to scratch at the side of his nose. He looked down at his feet and watched the rain collect and run past them into the city sewer. 

"This Walt, whoever he is, is a very lucky man if he likes simple pleasures, too." 

Alex looked up, startled, shocked, disbelieving. Mario easily read his face and Alex could see him shrugging inside the darkness of the vehicle. "You're a very vocal man Alex....at times." 

Alex snorted and looked off down the street. His hands firmly digging into his pockets. Trying to forget he had heard Skinner's name mentioned. He didn't believe it. There was no way he'd say Skinner's name while he was doing it with Mario. No way. 

"Take care, Alex." Mario smiled at him one last time and motioned with his hand as if signaling a salute and the tinted glass rose to hide his face. Alex watched in silence as the car disappeared out of sight then he jogged across the wet street, but this time he went past the bar and down another road. 

The End 

  
 

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Title:   **Simple Pleasures**   
Author:  Deborah   [email/website]   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **NC-17**  |  **24k**  |  **05/19/06**   
Pairings:  Krycek/Other   
Category:  PWP   
Summary:  Alex flees his feelings for Skinner and discovers the complexity of the simple pleasures of life. Originally meant as a setup piece for another story, but I think it works as a standalone.   
Notes:  Graphic sex of the rough, but willing variety.   
  
  
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